"Young master, why have you dragged us all the way out to this sinister place?" Zazu asked, nervously looking around the jungle surroundings. "I'm afraid don't quite understand your reasoning."

"Just relax, Zazu," replied Simba. "It's only the jungle. You've been here before – when Hago and Scar took over the kingdom. You got so scared that you flew all the way out here." He chuckled. "Just proves how much of a scaredy-cat you are."

"I'd prefer that you didn't call me hurtful names like that," Zazu told him, sounding offended. "My self-esteem isn't what it used to be. I blame those monkeys for tickling me senselessly during that whole Royal Challenge hubbub."

"Well, you should have been more careful when sorting out the Pride Lands law," Simba replied. "If you had, then you wouldn't have gotten tortured for hours, and I wouldn't have had to fight off the most annoying cub I've ever met."

"I'll admit I overlooked that one little obscure law," Zazu agreed. "But I'll remind you that both your father and I were very new to this royalty business at the time, so I would say it's rather excusable."

"'New'?" said Simba, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd been doing the ol' Banana-Beak routine for more than a thousand years, Zazu."

"A thousand years?" Zazu exclaimed, chuckling. "Just how old do you think I am, young master?"

"Oh, I don't know. How many lions are there in the world?" Simba joked, prompting Zazu to look very unimpressed.

"Ha-ha, very funny," he said sarcastically. "Maybe if your common sense was as good as your jokes then you might shape up to be a better King some day."

"Okay, then, Zazu. How old are you?" Simba asked, actually not knowing the answer. Come to think of it, it would be a bit interesting to find out…

"I am but five years old, Simba," replied Zazu. "Your father has been the King for little over three years, and I became his majordomo at around the same time, which was actually when I was very young. Contrary to your belief, I am not thousands of years old! I'm barely into my adult stage!"

"Wow." Simba looked quite shocked. "Five years, huh? That's only four years older than me." He scratched his head.

"Weird. So you weren't working for the King before my Dad?"

"Me? Well, of course not. I was only a child at the time of King Ahadi's reign. And I remember it vividly." Zazu didn't look too pleased at his childhood memories. They weren't exactly pleasant.

"So who was King Ahadi, anyway?" Simba asked.

He didn't know anything about his granddad. He had died a few years before he was born. No one really spoke about him, and Simba could only assume that this was for a bad reason. Probably a very bad reason.

But it couldn't be that bad, could it?

"King Ahadi?" Zazu fluttered down onto Simba's shoulder, and shuddered. "I don't think you'd want to know about him, Simba. The history of the Pride Lands before your father's reign wasn't very pleasant. To be honest, it was quite dismal."

"Well, surely you can tell me," Simba said, giving Zazu an innocent smile. "I am a very responsible cub."

Zazu laughed. "You?" he exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Simba, name one thing that makes you responsible."

"I've saved the kingdom from certain death several times," Simba responded. "I think that's responsible enough, Zazu. Why does no one ever realise that I'm the best thing that's ever happened to them? Now tell me what was so bad about King Ahadi."

"I can't, Simba," Zazu insisted. "It's forbidden."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Simba asked. "How can it be forbidden to talk about the former King?"

"Your father made it a law," Zazu explained. "All Pride Lands inhabitants are forbidden to talk about King Ahadi and the horrors he caused for the kingdom. Why do you think your father rarely ever mentions him? And who do you think gave that ugly monster Scar his name?"

"So no one is allowed to talk about this King Ahadi?" Simba presumed. "Not even me – even though I'm the Prince?"

Zazu shook his head. "No, young master. The tale is simply too harrowing for a young cub like yourself to know. It could give you nightmares for an infinite number of months."

"I've already been down that path, Zazu," Simba told him. "Trust me; I hold the record for nightmares. A few of them actually involve you. There was this one where your face melted, and then your brain exploded all over the place!"

"How enlightening," Zazu remarked, a frown on his long beak. "Now can we dispense with all this unpleasantness and perhaps focus on the lighter side of life?"

"Could you repeat that in English?" Simba asked, hardly understanding a word that Zazu had just said to him.

Zazu sighed. "I want to change the subject, young master. Now, tell me this. Where are we going? I think, as your companion, that I deserve to know."

"And I deserve to know about King Ahadi," Simba retorted, a sly smile on his face. "If you won't tell me about him, then I won't tell you where we're going."

"That's blackmail!" Zazu cried. "You can't do that to a respectable hornbill such as myself! Why, if we were in the Pride Lands, then you would be severely punished for such a horrid action!"

Simba stopped, staring at Zazu in disbelief. "Do you just talk like that all of the time? It's really starting to freak me out."

"I was brought up to be civilised," Zazu informed the Prince. "My parents saw to that. It was very necessary at the time – what with the state of life at the time and all. I needed to be proper."

"So where are your parents now?" Simba asked, grinning at Zazu. "Probably lying in the bottom of a rhino's stomach." He chuckled. "Looks like the way they talked didn't get them very—"

He saw the look Zazu was giving him, and then frowned, looking down at the ground. "Sorry," he said. "I – I didn't mean—"

"I know, Simba," Zazu interrupted. "My parents have been dead ever since I was a child. My only ever friend was your father. He took me in."

"What happened?" Simba asked, curious. "How did they…?"

Zazu looked down at the inquisitive cub. "I think that's a story for another time, don't you?"

Simba opened his mouth to protest, when he heard a loud sound.

The sound of someone screaming at the top of their voice.